At first he thought an animal had been hit and dragged itself there to die. But as he neared, the beam revealed something else. Pale flesh. A shock of darkish hair. A bare foot sticking out of the snow. Adrenaline kicked hard in his gut. “Holy shit.”

For an instant he couldn’t move. He couldn’t stop looking at the dark circle of blood and colorless flesh. Giving himself a hard mental shake, T.J. dropped to his knees beside the body. His first thought was that she might still be alive. Brushing at the snow, he set his hand against a bare shoulder. Her skin was ice cold, but he rolled her over anyway. He saw more blood and pasty flesh and glazed eyes that seemed to stare right at him.

Shaken, he scrambled back. His hand trembled as he grappled for his lapel mike. “Dispatch! This is forty-seven!”

“What now, T.J? One of them cows chase you up a tree?”

“I got a fuckin’ body here at Stutz’s place.”

“What?”

They used the ten-code system in Painters Mill, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember the number for a dead body. He’d never had to use it. “I said I got a dead body.”

“I heard you the first time.” But the words were followed by a stunned pause as realization hit her. “What’s your twenty?”

“Dog Leg Road, just south of the covered bridge.”

A beat of silence. “Who is it?”

Everyone knew everyone in Painters Mill, but he’d never seen this woman before. “I don’t know. A woman. Naked as the day she came into this world and deader than Elvis.”

“A wreck or what?”

“This was no accident.” Setting his hand on the butt of his .38, T.J. scanned the shadows within the trees. He could feel his heart beating fast in his chest. “You’d better call the chief, Mona. I think we got us a murder.”

CHAPTER 2

I dream of death.

As always, I’m in the kitchen of the old farmhouse. Blood shimmers stark and red against the scuffed hardwood floor. The scents of yeast bread and fresh-cut hay mingle with the harsh stench of my own terror, a contrariety my mind cannot reconcile. The curtains billow in the breeze coming through the window above the sink. I see flecks of blood on the yellow fabric. More spatter on the wall. I feel the stickiness of it on my hands.

I crouch in the corner, animal sounds I don’t recognize tearing from my throat like stifled screams. I feel death in the room. Darkness all around me. Inside me. And at the age of fourteen, I know evil exists in my safe and sheltered world.

The phone rattles me from sleep. The nightmare slinks back into its hole like some nocturnal creature. Rolling, I grapple with the phone on the nightstand and set the phone against my ear. “Yeah.” My voice comes out like a croak.

“Chief. This is Mona. Sorry to wake you, but I think you’d better come in.”